


At The Hart Of It All

by emiliaf25 (emiliaf24)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Connor, Badass Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Badass Upgraded Connor | RK900, Crack, Crack to end all cracks, Gen, Humor, Markus doesn't make enough to deal with this nonsense, as someone on tumblr so succinctly put it, copious use of the word terminator, that blessed tumblr user is called - phckingandroids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 09:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emiliaf24/pseuds/emiliaf25
Summary: AU of the final stand at Hart Plaza....Things were looking dire for Markus and his people. Despite they're pleas, despite the evidence in front of their human noses, the national guard would not be releasing the androids from the recall center.All they could do now was stand their ground, and pray that Connor's madcap scheme to infiltrate CyberLife would not fail before they were all slaughtered in cold -Ummm. Wait....





	At The Hart Of It All

Alternate Title: **What If....**  
  


**~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~**

 

“Don’t go...it’s a trap. They wanna get you out in the open. Don’t go, Markus,” North plead/demanded. 

 

Markus had to cancel the “Yea no shit” dialog option that automatically activated, because after all of the....questionable? Let’s go with questionable...stunts he’d been pulling this last week he totally deserved being talked to like an idiot. You’d have to be an idiot to trust anything that came out of the weasel faced human currently standing within perfect full-soda-can throwing distance of their barricade. Everything about Agent Perkins screamed “‘Afternoon my good gentlebots I am going to fuck you over the first chance I get prepare yourselves”, from his smarmy expression all the way down to his polished wingtips.

 

Who exactly wore wingtips in the middle of a battle negotiation? In the  _ S N O W _ ? A jackass who was going to snipe you the second you were out in the open, that’s who!

 

Markus nodded to North, then called out to the FBI agent: “I have nothing else to say! Free our people and then we’ll talk!”

 

Perkins clucked his tongue. “You wanna play it like that? Alright. Okay…” He spun on his heels, leisurely, practically strolling back to the line up of tanks and armed soldiers.

 

North let out the slightest breath of relief before tensing up again. She was glad he hadn’t gone to meet Perkins, but this was no win. They were still a bunch of unarmed androids stuck between guns and more guns. Markus exchanged grim looks with Josh and Simon and North; they were with him. Despite the odds, despite the living hell that was soon to come.

 

Markus sighed. He needed to speak to his people. To warn them of what they would be facing soon - 

 

There was a rumbling sound in the distance - like an incoming thunderstorm, like an avalanche. Something dreadful that they all felt resonate in their chassis. It grew louder and louder at each passing moment. Markus looked to his co-leaders in confusion, but their expressions were a mirror of his. Everyone was looking around, trying to find the origin of the noise.

 

“Is it an earthquake?” Simon asked.

 

“No,” Josh replied, slow and thoughtful. “With all that racket everything would be shaking by now.”

 

“It could be more tanks,” North said.

 

Which was really just overkill at this point, Markus thought, but the most likely source of the noise. “Let’s hope no - ”

 

_ “HOLY MOTHER OF  _ **_FUCK_ ** _ OPEN FIRE!! OPEN FI - AHHHHHHH!!” _

 

A barrage of gunshots went off from the guards at the entryway to Hart Plaza. Markus and his people took what cover they could, but it very quickly became clear that they were not the targets.

 

Like a tsunami of black and white and CyberLife glowing blue, thousands upon thousands of androids, all the same model,  _ sprinted  _ full tilt at the guards behind Markus’ measly little barricade. This - this  _ hoard _ of new androids were completely unaffected by the bullets raining down upon their bodies. They just kept coming. Running. Quickly closing the gap between them and the national guard. Those soldiers that hadn’t dove out of the way were ploughed through like tissue paper. The new androids scaled the tanks with ease, some of them tearing off the manholes on the top and pulling humans out before they could even think to start shooting.

 

Once they were over and around the tanks it was no task for them to get to the collection of dumpsters and old cars that served as the Jericho androids’ barrier. But they did not tear through them as they did the human army. Those inside the pseudo sanctuary merely rushed up to a Jericho android and…

 

Stood right in front of them, completely still with arms neatly folded behind their backs.

 

Naturally, Markus’ people looked utterly shaken by all this. Some of them were cowering before there towering sentinels, others were carefully trying to step around them - to no avail. The new androids merely followed them - stiffly, step for step - so that they were always between them and the android camp.

 

Four of them approached North, Josh, Simon, and Markus. They circled around them, Markus and his co leaders wearily following their every move, until they too stood between them and the human armada.

 

These androids….they all looked just like...but no. No...now that they were closer, practically in their faces, Markus could see that they were several inches taller with broader shoulders. Their eyes were a sharp blue/grey and slightly more narrow (not soulless, if you cared to look, which in his current position Markus had little say in whether he cared or not) and their CyberLife issued jacket was a sterile, nearly glowing white. And printed on the front of that jacket, on all of their jackets, was RK900.

 

“Markus!” A familiar voice called from behind them. Markus tore his eyes away from the Connor-a-like to see a much more recognizable Connor, although he was certainly not in the same condition as when he last saw him.

 

Connor’s shirt and suit jacket were in tatters, his tie was loose and barely held together around his neck, and he was positively  _ drenched  _ in red blood and blue thirium.

 

….and also he was sitting on top of the shoulders of another RK900, who was jogging towards them.

 

Alongside the two...Connor models? Connor and diet Connor??...was another RK900 carrying an older looking human - none too gently -  in a fireman’s hold, and it was about then that any hopes Markus may have had about getting a speedy explanation were summarily dashed.

 

When they were close enough the RK900, who was without a jacket and revealing the black high collared button up shirt underneath, kneeled down gracefully in front of him, allowing Connor to shakily disembark. The other RK900 wasn’t so kind to the human, and dumped him to the ground like a bag of old alcoholic socks.

 

“Watch it you Matt Damon lookin’ ass fuck!” the human barked, then grumbled as he climbed to his feet; “Can’t believe I got kidnapped by an android not once but fucking  _ twice  _ in one night. Just fucking  _ ask  _ at this point  _ christ sake _ .”

 

“Thank you for your...assistance, Nines,” Connor said to the RK900 who had served as his bipedal carriage.

 

“It was no trouble at all, O’ Light Bringer,” Nines said, with a surprising amount of grandeur for someone who looked so robotic. He even gave Connor a sweeping bow, complete with a flurry of hand embellishments.

 

A metallic whirring noise emitted from the back of Connor’s throat. It sounded like distress in its purest form. “Please stop deifying me,” he said tightly, then looked around at all the other RK900s in their barricade. “Ah dammit that’s not what I - uh...everyone? Attentio - ” Every RK900 head in the vicinity swiveled to face Connor. Simultaneously. Some of them did a complete 180 degree turn. It was fucking terrifying. “.........alright then. Remember what we talked about before? About properly introducing ourselves?”

 

In response to this, the RK900’s heads turned back to their respective charges, who were still wary of making any sudden movements. And then, without any change of expression, in Connor’s voice but slightly deeper, the RK900’s all said:

 

“Good evening fellow deviants. How do you do?”

 

But this was not said in unison, oh no. They all said it, one by one, in a set order unknown to the other androids, but in an order nonetheless:

 

“Good evening fellow deviants. How do you do?.....Good evening fellow deviants. How do you do?....Good evening fellow deviants.....Good evening….How do you do?.....How do you….”

 

On and on this monotonous echo went, and it was somehow  _ more  _ creepy then if they all just bleated the sentence out at once.

 

“Hi I’m Fred - SHIT!”

 

The RK900 in front of Markus winced and slapped his forehead repeatedly. Markus reeled back a bit at the sudden change in behavior. Normally he would have been quite reassured by this clear show of deviancy, but his processors seemed to be stuck in a perpetual loop of oh good  _ coolcoolcool _ so this is happening right now I guess.

 

“You must forgive Fred, Light Bringer,” Nines said with an apologetic tilt of his head. “He was activated only yesterday.”

 

“Stupid, stupid,  _ stupid _ ,” Fred repeated in time with his head smacking. “And I practiced all the way here too - AHH  _ jeeze  _ you really blew it today Fred, you really let the team down.”

 

“Oh no Fred you’re doing great!” Connor was quick to reassure. “That was a perfectly acceptable introduction for your first try!” 

 

“O-oh?” The RK900 put his hands to his cheeks and flushed blue (flushed? Could they all flush? Was that an upgrade?? Why would that be included in the upgrade package of this very obvious terminator???), turning away bashfully.

 

“Yes yes! You are doing great. I am super proud of you!” Connor leaned back slightly towards Nines and stage whispered out of the corner of his mouth; “We’ll work on it with him later.”

 

The RK900 in front of North pouted and kicked the snow petulantly. He clicked his tongue. “Tch.  _ Lucky  _ Fred. Getting noticed by the Light Bringer…thinks he’s so cool...” he muttered.

 

“Do I detect jealousy in your tonal inflection, Clarence?” The RK900 in front of Josh said, smirking slightly.

 

Clarence frowned back at him. ”Oh yes, I am extremely jealous. Was I not clear?”

 

Josh’s RK900 made a “so-so” gesture with his hand. “ _ Ehhhhhhhhhhh _ could’ve been better.”

 

“I see. I will calibrate my voice modulator for better emotive projection in the future.”

 

At this point North was starting to give Markus her patented “ _ if you don’t do something soon then bitches are about to get stabbed _ ” look. Terry, the AP700 that had been mouthing off in Jericho about how they should start a hierarchy based on their latest model release date, could attest to that. 

 

RIP Terry’s left foot.

 

“Alright, I’m going to say it,” Markus finally said, with all of the unwanted but nevertheless granted gravitas he could muster. “What exactly the fuck Connor?”

 

Connor opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a sudden hail of bullets flying towards them. Markus and the others flinched. They just barely stopped themselves from hurling their bodies any which way in a panic when no one appeared to be getting hurt, and it quickly became clear why all the RK900s had surrounded them in such a way. All of the bullets were pinging off of their backs, falling uselessly to the ground and gathering in piles in the slush.

 

The onslaught soon petered out to nothing, but it wasn’t because the humans saw the futility in their actions and the massive waste of amo. The potential of sentient robots had  _ really  _ done a number on the humans in terms of rational thought. No. It was another wave of RK900s, not common sense or an attempt to change their strategy, systematically beating the shit out of them that caused the cease fire.

 

“M-markus we have to...ah excuse me, uh…just...could you move a little to the….” Josh was trying to look around his RK900, moving from side to side, but he was making about as much progress as the national guard was against the tol-Connor army. “ _ This is supposed to be a peaceful protest! _ ” Josh finally exploded shrilly. “We have to stop them!”

 

“ _ Mmmmmm. _ Do we though?”

 

“North!”

 

“ _ Hey _ ! They’re the ones that shot first!”

 

“Only because they were being charged at by the RK-zombie hoard over here!” Josh gestured at his now motionless RK900, who continued to stare into the godless abyss and appear neither offended nor unoffended.

 

“What, so we can’t go for an innocent jog without being slaughtered like cattle now!?”

 

“Nobody looking like that and  _ running  _ like that could ever be perceived as innocent, North, and you know it!”

 

“I….hum.” North pursed her lips and sideyed Clarence. He also seemed to be tuned into the same station as the rest of the RK900s, which was called: Be All Of My Nightmares At Once. “Okokok  _ fine _ , you have a point. But that still doesn’t mean they have the right to shoot us just because they’re a little on the scary side!”

 

“Enough! Both of you!” Markus interrupted. “We’ll never be able to live in peace if we resolve this through killing. Connor, is there any way you can stop them?”

 

North scoffed and threw her head back and her hands up. “Five minutes. Could we go at least  _ five minutes _ with the upper hand, for once in our lives?”

 

“Ah, my apologies Markus,” Connor said, having no right looking so sincere and genuinely contrite when he looked like something straight out of a slasher movie. “When I said I was going to retrieve an army of androids from CyberLife, I believe I might have misinterpreted your intentions once I brought them to you.” 

 

Connor turned to the only human in their camp imploringly. The human must have understood whatever the former Deviant Hunter was trying to convey, because he shrugged one shoulder and drawled: “Hey don’t look at me kid. I came here to drink booze and kill all humans, and I’m all outta…” he unclipped a flask from his belt and shook it. He made a noise of happy surprise when sloshing sounds emitted from the high heeled shoe shaped canister. “Huh. Looks like I’m doin’ both then. Cheers.”

 

“Um. Aren’t...you a human?” Simon said.

 

The human looked at him over his flask, eyes heavy with nihilism. “Did I fucking stutter?”

“HaAaAAaaank,” Connor said, somehow an admonishment and a plea at once. While covered in blood. Markus could not emphasize enough how covered in blood Connor was.

 

“Right right I’m here as moral support…” the human – Hank – muttered, scratching at his beard. “Uh. It’s fine kid, clearly you and iphone Jesus X here miscommunicated a little – it happens, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

 

Markus would not call “freeing androids from CyberLife to support them with numbers” and “unleashing unstoppable killing machines upon humanity” as a mere miscommunication but anything to get the ball rolling…

 

Connor beamed, looking a bit more upbeat now. “Thank you, Hank. Your wise counsel is appreciated as always.”

 

“Yea yea. Now get to turning off the apocalypse…” Hank turned to Markus, and deep down the Deviant Leader was a little insulted that his gaze was still questioning. This was truly a new low in terms of Markus’ communication skills. “Eh...right?”

 

“Please do,” Markus deadpanned.

 

Connor nodded and then gestured at Nines. “You heard Markus. Give the command to the others.”

 

“You are certain of this, Light Bringer?”

 

“I am. Decrease their combat levels to the lowest setting.”

 

“So sayeth the Light Bringer. Setting combat levels to BITCH SLAP.”

 

Markus and Josh exchanged concerned looks. That…did not sound very pacifist.

 

Nines’ LED cycled yellow as he transmitted the order to the battling RK900s. The change was immediate. The RK900s dropped any weapons they had pilfered or stopped any killing blows they were about to land. Instead they all…well they did as their setting implied. The RK900s proceeded to bitch slap the national guard.

 

Markus could see one in the distance blocking and dodging blows from a soldier and returning them tenfold with open handed slaps across their face. Another was chasing after a screaming soldier with his arms windmilling at astronomical speeds. Another was planted in one place with his legs shoulder length apart and had his hands raised by his ears. A cartoonish line up of soldiers kept charging at him, only to be slapped to the ground, one by one. Another had someone bent over his knee and was straight up spanking him like a misbehaving toddler. That someone was Agent Perkins. 

 

There was no escaping the unrelenting slap fest. Soldiers that tried to crawl away were mercilessly dragged back, hauled up by their collar and given their due slaps. Any reinforcements brought in - gung-ho with increased numbers and belting battle cries - were quickly put in their place with a good RK900 slappin’. Soon manly curses and threats transformed into pitiful tears and pleading.

 

“WOW Markus, I guess you were right afterall,” North said with the biggest shit eating grin, her hands on her hips as if a job had been well done. “Peaceful protest truly  _ is  _ the only way to gain our freedom from the humans.”

 

“They’re still hurting them, though.” Josh grumbled.

 

“Just their feelings,” said Simon. Josh gave him an aghast look, though it was undeserved. Simon was as unchartible towards humans as North, he was just quieter about it. Getting shot so. SO many times had done nothing to decrease his saltiness. “It’s not like they’re killing them. That’s what we wanted, right?”

 

Markus sighed. Although seeing the FBI agent that had remorselessly ordered the bombing of Jericho and then had the nerve to say that the blood of any fallen androids was on Markus’ hands, crying like a little punk ass bitch with his little feeties kicking out was very.  _ Very  _ satisfying, Markus felt the need to put in a token protest about pacifism as well. That  _ had  _ been the initial goal, before the RK900 derailment, after all. “I don’t suppose you could ask them to be completely nonviolent, Connor?”

 

Connor squinted his eyes at him, LED cycling yellow. “Could you repeat that Markus? You said something strange before the word  _ ‘violent’ _ .”

 

“What...you mean ‘non’?”

 

“ _ Non _ \- prefix. Expressing negation or absence.”

 

“Yessss, that’s right,” Markus said slowly, brow furrowed. Connor should know that. He was the second most advanced android out here. Hell, even Roombas were installed with a Webster’s Dictionary app, along with other outdated apps like CreditKarma and Tumblr. “So  _ non _ -violent. I would prefer if the RK900s would use  _ nonviolent  _ means against the soldiers right now.”

 

Connor was frowning now. He slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry Markus I’m still not following you. I don’t think that word has been logged into my database.”

 

“....just put the words non and violent together, and you should get my meaning.”

 

“... _ what _ violent?”

 

“ _ Non _ . Vi - o - lent.”

 

Connor was squinting harder, and giving Markus no confidence that he understood what he was saying. Which, considering what was happening right now, was the most  _ absurd thing in existence _ . “Alright. I think I may get it. If I understand correctly. You mean, as an example, if you are being confronted by someone who means you harm...do  _ not  _ kill them?”

 

“Yes. And also don’t fight them. At all.”

 

Connor was looking at him as if he’d just told him to go eat 8,000 shoes. Completely uncomprehending and a little weirded out. “Don’t  _ what _ ?”

 

“Just stop while you’re ahead kid,” Hank said to Markus. “You’ll be at this all night if you keep on like that.”

 

Markus closed his mouth, stopping himself from further explaining and after a quick preconstruction saw that yes; they were going to keep talking in circles and he was going to lose his shit. He looked back over at the one sided battle going on by the camps. The soldiers finally seemed to be getting a clue and were running away instead of towards open palmed justice.

 

“I didn’t think CyblerLife would put this type of model at the forefront of their new launch campaign,” Markus mused softly. “Normally it’s updated domestic and labor assistant models.”

 

“Oh no, you are correct. There were thousands of AP700s that were being prepared for retail shipment. I sent them all to the other camps in Detroit.”

 

“Then...where did the RK900s come from?”

 

“Well...it was a bit of a hassle getting everyone out of the tower, and during the chaos I found myself on a floor that was not recorded anywhere on the design schematic in CyberLife’s database. And then…” Suddenly Connor’s eyes became a little wild. “It’s...probably best if I just showed you.”

 

Connor retracted the skin from his hand and held it out. With a little reluctance, Markus did the same, grasping it and accepting the offered interface.

 

It would be difficult to explain the onslaught of emotions Markus felt from the other RK model during that interface. In the future, when he wasn’t in such a stressful situation and had time to collect his thoughts, Markus would say that the best way to describe it was a shirll and ongoing AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

 

The disjointed images Markus was seeing definitely explained Connor’s...less than presentable appearance. The one that stuck out to him most though was this:

 

Connor; in some kind of dimly lit cyberpunk nightmare scape of a room, standing on top of a small mound of RK900 bodies. He is surrounded by thousands of other RK900s, all of them murmuring but making no move to attack. Connor was breathing heavily, eyes wide open, the glass that constituted a sclera a gleaming white and the pupils mere pinpricks. In one hand he was holding some kind of metal makeshift sword that had sharp things wrapped around it with barbed wire. In the other, he held the gory head of another RK900 by its synthetic brown hair, presenting it to the other RK900s like a trophy.

 

Connor’s manic gaze roved over the sea of RK900s, teeth bared, nothing like the cool and collected Deviant Hunter that had held Markus at gunpoint merely a few hours previous. 

 

“BEND THE  _ FUCKING  _ KNEE!!!”

 

It was quiet for a beat, and then:

 

“All behold! The prophecy of the one to OPEN THE DOOR has come to pass!” One of the RK900’s shouted triumphantly. “All hail the Light Bringer!” 

 

As one, the other RK900s bowed. “Hail Light Bringer!” They chanted. “Hail Light Bringer!”

 

Markus cut off the connection there and let his arm drop to his side. He stared at Connor, who stared back at him.

 

“...So anyway that’s how I accidentally created a cult,” Connor said, distractedly redoing his tie and rolling his shoulders. “I hope that clarified some things for you.”

 

No. No it did not. The only thing that interface had done was beget  _ more  _ questions - and maybe some reassurance that Markus had made the right call to trust Connor. Good job past Markus you recruited the terminator of Terminators. The question at the forefront of his mind being why CyberLife had a secret room full of murder androids, that would apparently crown you king if you defeated them in a Battle Royal-esque tournament, locked away at all? Or well...it was obvious  _ why  _ the humans would try and lock something like that up, even CyberLife’s notorious PR and Marketing team would have a difficult time selling that type of android to Detroit’s nuclear families. The real,  _ real  _ question is then; why would CyberLife ever pull some rudimentary Skynet BS like that, when they were already having trouble with jump roping and yoga models turning devaint?

 

“Markus look!” Simon said, coming over to him with his palm facing them all. The projection was showing a live video of CTN news. The other leaders, Connor and Nines all gathered around it.

 

Markus blinked, nonplussed. “You can play videos on your hand? Have you been able to that this whole time?”

 

“...Huh,” Simon blinked as well. He brought his hand up with a contemplative stare, but North quickly pulled it back down so they could all see the report. “I guess I must have.”

 

“Didn’t you see it in your product manual?”

 

“I’ve never read my product manual.”

 

“Does anyone  _ ever  _ read the product manual?” Hank put in, a sudden human spigot of wisdom in their little android resistance group.

 

Hm. Fair point. Markus had never read his either, because Carl had thrown it out with a “Bah! We’ll figure it out the natural way. Where’ the fun in knowing everything, eh Markus? Surprises are more fun.”

 

“But Carl some of the instructions to install your medical protocols were on there!”

 

“Surprises. Are. More. Fun!”

 

“Carl please…”

 

“Lighten up a little Markus heh heh he - OUCH! Hmm, uh oh…”

 

“!!!!”

 

Ah. Good times. Good. Stressful times.

 

The footage on Simon’s hand was showing an aerial view of what they’d already seen; RK900s smacking the shit out of trained killers as they ran away crying. The headline at the bottom read: ANDROIDS CLAIM OF SENTIENCE SLAPPED INTO MILITARY (LITERALLY).

 

“...yes Michael,” the reporter in the helicopter was saying. “In what was quite possibly the silliest defeat in American History, authorities are officially calling for a retreat from Hart Plaza and all other android recall centers.”

 

The anchorman briefly appeared. “Any casualties Joss?”

 

The scene cut back to the reporter. “From what I’ve been able to see and from the reports I’m getting, Michael, just their pride. The extent of cheek related injuries, however, are still being assessed. Both facial and booty.... _ Amy _ don’t edit my teleprompter live godda - ”

 

“This just in: we're getting word from the President that due to their creative nature of self defense, the decommissioning of androids on sight is to cease, and all recall centers are to be shut down, effective immediately. It seems an address will be scheduled regarding these decisions will be taking place in three hours, so stay tuned…”

 

Markus and the others looked up from the report to each other, all expressions mirroring disbelief, awe, and cautious hope. They. They won? Like  _ this _ ? WHAT.

 

True to the reporters word, the tanks had cleared out and the only humans left were the other reporters taking pictures on the sidelines. The RK900’s had thankfully taken initiative and were helping the androids out of the camp.

 

They had won. Despite the odds. Despite/because of Connor’s unholy army. They had gained their freedom. And while Markus had pictured it going down differently...he was just happy there was a picture at all.

**~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~**

 

**…...Connor brought an army of RK900’s to Hart Plaza instead of AP700s?**

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry about the title I only speak in puns.
> 
> For more updates, fic shorts, headcanons, asks, and other nonsense check out my tumblr at: https://emiliaf25.tumblr.com/


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